_London, Feb. 28th, 1828._
I must go back to mention to you an acquaintance I made at Brighton,
which in one point of view is interesting. You have no doubt heard that
an ancestor of the Thelluson family made a will, according to which his
property was to accumulate for a hundred and fifty years, interest upon
interest, and the then existing young Thelluson to come into possession
of the whole. In twenty years this term will expire; and I saw the
present Mr. Thelluson, a man of forty, who has very little; and his son,
a pretty boy of eight, who is probably destined in his twenty-eighth
year to be master of twelve millions sterling,--ninety four millions of
our money. An act of Parliament has prohibited all such wills for the
future; but could not invalidate this, though great efforts were made to
do so. So enormous a fortune certainly invests a private man with a very
unnatural degree of power. However, I could not help heartily wishing
good luck to the little fellow, with his splendid hopes. There is really
something grand in having such enormous wealth; for it cannot be denied
that money is the representative of most things in the world. What
marvellous objects might be attained by such a fortune well applied!
Next to this young Croesus 'in spe,' I was interested by a man of very
original character, Colonel C----, who was here some days. Lady M----
directed my attention to him, and told me as follows: "When I was young,
the elegant middle-aged man you see there, was one of the most admired
beaux of the metropolis. After he had run through all his fortune, with
the exception of a few thousand pounds, chance one day led him before a
map of America, and the thought suddenly struck him that he would go
there and turn backwoodsman. He examined the map, and fixed on a
solitary spot on Lake Erie, sold all his effects the same week, married
his servant to a pretty young girl, embarked with them, and arrived in
safety at the spot he had chosen in the primeval woods, where he lived
for a few days by hunting, and slept under the leafy canopy: with the
help of some backwoodsmen he soon built a log-house, which he still
inhabits. He acquired a considerable influence over the settlers
scattered around him, which he employed in encouraging them to their
joint labours, and rendered himself peculiarly agreeable to them by
playing the part of cook, and preparing palatable food, instead of the
half-raw meat they used to eat. He sees an increasing and attached
population spring up around him, is proprietor of a little principality
in extent, calculates his income at ten thousand a year, and comes
regularly every tenth year, for 'one season,' to England, where he
lives, as formerly, with all the 'aisance' of a fashionable man of the
world, and then returns to his woods."
My first visit in the metropolis was to Countess M----, who, 'malgré ses
quarantes ans,' has added another child to her dozen during my absence.
I dined there, and admired a beautiful present of plate from the King,
the workmanship of which is finer here than anywhere, so that the cost
of the labour is often ten times that of the metal. At dinner the Count
told a curious anecdote, characteristic of the administration of justice
in this country.
"A man whom I know," said he, "had his pocket-handkerchief stolen in the
street. He seized the thief, and, being the stronger, held him fast,
though not without receiving several violent blows; and at length gave
him into the charge of a police officer who came up. The transaction was
perfectly clear, and passed in the presence of many witnesses; and the
delinquent, if prosecuted, would have been transported. His wife went to
the gentleman, begged for mercy on her knees: the thief himself, who was
not an uneducated man, wrote the most moving letters,--and who will
wonder that he at length found pity? On the appointed day the prosecutor
staid away, and the criminal was accordingly acquitted.
"The gentleman paid dearly enough for his ill-timed compassion. A
fortnight after this transaction, he was prosecuted, by the very man who
picked his pocket, for an assault, which was proved on the testimony of
several witnesses. The defendant replied, that it was certainly true
that he had seized the man, but that he had done so only because he had
caught him in the act of picking his pocket. But as the criminal had
already been acquitted of this, and no man can be twice tried for the
same offence, no notice was taken of the justification. In short, it
cost the too generous sufferer about a hundred pounds, which he had to
pay partly to the man who robbed him, and partly to the Court." The
whole company thought this sort of justice monstrous; but an old
Englishman defended it with great warmth and pertinacity. "I think,"
exclaimed he earnestly, "that the incident just related, exactly goes to
illustrate the wisdom of our laws in the most striking manner. All laws
and judicial authorities are instituted solely for the purpose of
preventing crime. This is also the sole end of punishment. The receiver
of stolen goods is therefore, in the eye of the law, nearly as guilty as
the thief; and he who knowingly tries to rescue a criminal from the
grasp of the law, is almost as pernicious to the community as the
criminal himself. That man who, perhaps, began his career of crime with
the stealing of this pocket-handkerchief, and therefore ought to have
been withdrawn from society for penitence and amendment, now, emboldened
by success, is probably planning a larger theft,--perhaps a murder. Who
ought to bear the blame? This very gentleman,--who has been deservedly
punished for his illegal pity. He who thrusts his hand uncalled for and
inconsiderately between the wheels of a useful machine, must not wonder
if he breaks his fingers."
The English are, it must be confessed, most skilful sophists, whenever
their usages are called in question. The most distinguished man among
them, however, Brougham, lately made a speech of six hours long, which
treated entirely of the defects and abuses of English law. The most
stupendous of these seemed to be, that there is now in 'the Court of
Chancery' the enormous sum of fifty millions sterling, which has no
actual determined owner. A suit in this Court is become proverbial for
something interminable; and there is a very diverting caricature, which
bears the inscription, 'A Chancery Suit.' At first a young man
handsomely dressed, and in high blooming health, fills the hat of a
starved skeleton of a lawyer with guineas, by way of retaining fee. A
long, long procession of men and things follows; and at last we see the
young man as a ragged broken-down beggar, asking alms of the lawyer, now
grown fat as a tun, which the latter scornfully refuses. 'Hélas, c'est
encore tout comme chez nous,' only in more corpulent proportions.
On many things, however, which appear to foreigners most exasperating,
they ought to take care not to form too hasty a judgment, since abuses
and even obvious original defects are often only the inevitable shadows
of a far greater light;--as, for instance, bribery at
elections,--perhaps even the 'rotten boroughs,' and the acknowledged
dependence of a considerable portion of the members of parliament on
Government, by means of 'patronage,' and so forth. It seems to be quite
a question whether any Ministry could stand without these means,
apparently so pernicious. It is, however, something gained, that a
Government should not have that conceded in theory (as it is in despotic
states) which nevertheless, perhaps, they cannot quite dispense with in
practice;--as the preacher's life never quite comes up to his doctrine.
We must not forget that an approach to perfection is all that can be
expected from human things; and therefore reformers ought carefully to
keep in mind 'que le mieux est l'ennemi du bien.' Nevertheless, I think
I see many indications that England is advancing towards a reform; and
indeed, that it is, from various causes, quite inevitable. Whether it
will end advantageously for her, or not, is another question. Perhaps
the very necessity is a proof that she has outlived her highest
greatness, and is already declining.
In the evening I visited the Adelphi Theatre, where a juggler exhibited
his feats of art in a very new manner, under the title of
'Conversazioni.' He stood surrounded by various tables and machines on
the stage, and began with a history of his journey in the Diligence:
into this he introduced various characters and anecdotes, sang songs,
and interspersed his narrative with tricks, or optical deceptions, or
phantasmagoria, as appropriate incidents,--a good idea enough, which
increases the interest of such exhibitions. His dexterity and certainty
as a juggler were moreover as remarkable as his good dramatic acting and
his memory. He concluded with playing on the musical glasses; not only
in the harmonica style, but waltzes and the like; and even introduced
long shakes, which he executed admirably.
_March 9th._
The season already asserts its prerogative. The streets swarm with
elegant equipages; the shops spread forth fresh treasures; all the
houses are full, and all prices raised doubly and trebly. Mr. Peel the
Minister gave a brilliant soirée this evening to the Duchess of
Clarence. His house is decorated with many fine pictures, among which is
Rubens' famous 'Chapeau de paille.' Mr. Peel gave fifteen thousand
reichsthalers for this picture--a half-length.
I went with Prince E---- yesterday to see the small private collection
of a clergyman (Mr. Carr,) which consists of not above thirty pictures,
has cost him twenty thousand pounds, and is quite worth it. There are as
many master-pieces as pictures,--the only true sort of collection for a
private man, who does not use his gallery for instruction in the art,
but for enjoyment.
Here is a Garoffolo, of such unearthly transparency and brightness, of
so holy and deep a poetry, that you think you behold a picture of Eden,
not of this earth; and a large Claude, also of the highest order of
beauty, in which the smallness of the means employed are as wonderful as
the extraordinary effects produced. In an adjoining room were some
beautiful landscapes by Domenichino and Annibal Caracci. The richness of
composition, the deepness and freshness of invention, were adorned with
such a fantastic charm and such variety of details, that I could have
lost myself all day long in these strange regions, with their broad
watery mirrors; their islands, groves and pretty huts; their deep blue
mountains, and forests of spectral darkness. In a third room you reach
the crown of the whole collection, a picture by Leonardo da Vinci, in
which he has represented, in the three persons of the Saviour, Peter and
John, the Ideal of youth, manhood, and old age; all of a beauty, truth,
and perfection, which leaves nothing to desire. It is the only head of
Christ, of all I ever saw, which fully satisfies me; it is as strikingly
expressive of grandeur and force of mind, as of purity and meekness;
while at the same time it unites this speaking expression with perfect
ideal beauty. The grouping of the whole, too, is so satisfactory to the
eye; the colouring so brilliant and so fresh; the execution, down to the
smallest details so masterly,--that one feels a fulness of delight such
as few works of art bestow.[82] But nothing remains of the exquisite
pleasure of contemplating such a work, save a cold dissection of it by
words. I will therefore quit the subject; only I wish to make
connoisseurs better acquainted with this choice collection.
There is an exhibition of battles by Generat Lejeune, which he first
fought, and then painted. They show great talent and power. In the
battle of the Moskwa, the theatrical Murat and his suite form the
principal group; he, streaming with feathers, ringlets, fringe, and
embroidery,--standing, with his self-satisfied air, under a fire of
musketry; he is in the act of giving the order to the French and Saxon
cuirassiers for that murderous attack, and the storming of a battery of
forty guns, which cost so many their lives, and among them my beloved
friend H----. The King is just about to put himself at the head of them.
Who could then have predicted that he would so soon be ignominiously
beaten by a mob, and shot as a criminal?
Deeply affecting, though too horrible for art, is the figure of an
Austrian staff-officer at the battle of Marengo, who has been shot
through the belly, so that the bowels are lying on the ground. The
unfortunate wretch, to escape from his insufferable torture, has
entreated a French 'gens d'arme' to lend him his pistol, which he is
putting to his mouth with a look of despair, while the owner of the
weapon turns away shuddering.
In another picture is the onslaught of a party of Spanish guerillas on a
French detachment. You see a most romantic pass in the mountains of
Catalonia, remarkable for four stone oxen, the erection of which is
ascribed to Hannibal. At their feet lie two or three skeletons of French
cuirassiers, still in full armour. Not a soul escaped this slaughter
except General Lejeune himself, and this only by a half-miracle;--three
of the guns aimed at him missed, which the Empecinado superstitiously
took for a warning, and commanded the men not to fire at him again. You
see General Lejeune stripped naked; one murderer has caught him by the
hair, another is treading on his body, and the arms of the others are
pointed against him; while his servants and a soldier, pierced through
and through by pikes and swords, breathe their last at his side.
The battle of the Nile,--where the Mamelukes, in half-frantic flight,
spur their noble Arabian horses from a high hill down into the river,
whence but a few reach the opposite bank,--has also a very romantic
effect.
_March 13th._
I forgot to tell you that about a fortnight ago the elegant little
Brunswick Theatre, scarcely finished, fell in during the rehearsal of a
new piece, and destroyed a great many lives. I went to look at the ruins
yesterday; the carcasses of two cart-horses, which had been crushed in
the street were still lying under the rubbish. It was a fearful sight.
Only one single box remained standing; in this, Farren the actor saved
himself, by his coolness in not stirring from the spot.--Thence he saw
the whole horrible catastrophe,--only too real and unexpected a tragedy.
In the whirl of the season it's all forgotten. Yet this tumultuous life
furnishes far less stuff for thought than might be imagined; and what it
does furnish, is soon forgotten in the confusion.
A family dinner at the great R----'s, who has been likened to the
Sultan, because the one is the Ruler of all Believers, and the other the
Believer in all Rulers, occurred as a variety. This man has really
something very original about him. He was peculiarly merry to-day;
ordered the servant to bring his new Austrian consular uniform, which
"his friend M----ch," as he said, had sent him from Vienna; showed it
to us, and even suffered himself to be persuaded to try it on before the
looking-glass, and to walk about in it. And, as virtuosi when they have
once begun never know when to stop, he now sent for other magnificent
Court dresses, and changed his toilette several times, as if he had been
on the stage:--and that with such child-like good-nature and naïveté,
that I could only compare such a golden hero with Henry the Fourth,
found by the foreign ambassadors acting as horse to his little son.
It was, 'au reste,' rather droll to see how this otherwise serious
tradesman-like man tried to assume the various bendings and bowings, and
the light and gracious air, of a courtier; and, not in the least
disconcerted by our laughing, assured us, with as much confidence as
joviality, that N---- M---- R----, if he liked, could act any part;
and, with the help of five or six glasses of wine extra, could make as
good a figure at Court as the best of them.
An acquaintance I made a few days ago had a very different sort of
interest for me,--I mean that of General Mina. You have seen several
portraits of him, all of which represent him with huge mustachios and
wild features, like a ferocious captain of brigands. Think then of my
astonishment at seeing, in the hero of Spain, a mild, simple, and
singularly modest man, without the slightest trace of what is called a
military 'tournure;' on the contrary, like a country schoolmaster or
farmer, with an open good natured countenance, and blushing at every
compliment paid him, like a girl. When he grew animated with
conversation, I, however, remarked a change in his features and a
lightning of his dark eye, which betrayed the spirit within.
He is in very good preservation, and has scarcely the air of a man of
forty, though his short hair is quite white; but this by no means makes
him look old,--it only gives him the appearance of being powdered. He
said, in the course of conversation, that he never had that luxuriant
bush of hair to boast, which people are so fond of bestowing upon him,
and that he had often laughed at the caricatures which he saw of himself
in the shop-windows.
There were two other distinguished Spaniards present:
Arguelles,--Minister under the Constitutional Government, and the most
celebrated popular orator of Spain--a man of most prepossessing
appearance and polished manners; and General Valdez, Commandant of Cadiz
during the last siege. It was he who took the beloved Ferdinand on board
his ship, (he being then senior Admiral of the Fleet) to the French
camp. Though as he said, before and during the voyage the King
overwhelmed him with caresses, repeatedly expressed his thanks for the
treatment he had received in Cadiz, and made great promises for the
future, the fate of poor Valdez was already sealed. "The moment the King
quitted my ship," continued Valdez, "his behaviour suddenly changed; and
as soon as he felt himself secure, he cast a piercing look of triumph
and of long suppressed rage at me. _I knew this look_, and instantly
took my resolution. Without waiting to deliberate or take leave, I
sprang on board my ship, and set sail instantly for Cadiz. I thus
probably escaped death: but my exile here, in poverty and
wretchedness,--far from my unhappy country,--is, for a man of sixty,
accustomed to wealth and greatness, perhaps a greater evil."
I must now take you again to the theatre, and in the company, too, of
the celebrated Lord L----, an old acquaintance of mine, who, after his
varied and busy career, now preserves himself by daily washing with
vinegar; whereas he used formerly to pickle others in a sauce as sour
and pungent as that of the former 'Confiseur' of the _Elegante Zeitung_,
both in writing and by word of mouth. We talked of past times; and as we
reached the door of Drury Lane, he recited some wild but beautiful
verses of Moore's.[83]* * *
* * * * *
They are nearly as follows, in my usual halting verse--translations of
the moment.[84]
* * * * *
* * * * *
No bad motto for Desdemona, which awaited us; though truly the Moor's
was a fearful return for such devoted love.
Before I go to the performance itself, let me make a few general
remarks.
It is a constantly contested point in Germany, whether Shakspeare should
be given in a literal translation, in a free one, or in a still freer
paraphrase. I decide for the second; premising that the liberty should
be restricted to this,--unfettered scope in the spirit of the German
tongue,--even though a play of wit or words should occasionally be lost
by the means. But to alter in any considerable degree the course of the
play; to omit scenes; to give to Shakspeare words and ideas perfectly
foreign to him,--can only deform and mutilate him, even when done by the
greatest poet. People say Shakspeare is better to read than to see, and
cannot be performed in a literal translation without carrying us back to
the infancy of the scenic art; since, as they maintain, theatrical
representations in Shakspeare's time were no more than stories in
dialogue, with some attempt at costume. I will not go into the question
of the accuracy of this assertion; but thus much I know,--that the
representation of Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, Hamlet, and Othello, on the
English stage,--all which pieces are given with slight omissions, and in
which things generally supposed the most shocking to taste and
probability, even the obligato king's trumpeters, are not
wanting,--nevertheless leave a feeling of such full and untroubled
satisfaction on my mind, as reading or hearing read (even by Tieck, the
best reader I know of,) never had the power to produce in the most
distant degree;--nay, still more, I confess that it is only since I have
see them _here_, that I have been sensible of all Shakspeare's gigantic
proportions in their full amplitude. It is true, that to produce this, a
degree of concert on the part of all the actors and an excellence in
those who support the chief characters are necessary, which are wholly
wanting in Germany;--for Macbeths in Berlin, (as Clauren would say,) and
Macbeths in London, are as different sort of people as Shaskpeare
himself and his excellent commentator Franz Horn. The first actors here,
such as Kean, Kemble, Young, &c., are, as I have elsewhere remarked, men
of great cultivation, who have seen the best society, and devoted their
lives to the earnest study of their great national poet. They seldom act
any other characters than his, and do not mix up a tragic hero with one
of Iffland's _Geheimenräthe_ (privy councillors,) nor Talbot with Herr
von Langsalm, nor appear to-day in Othello, and to-morrow in Wollmarkt.
It strikes one as very singular, that in appearance, and to a great
extent in reality, the public before whom these distinguished artists
have to present themselves is so rude, ignorant and unmannerly. Yet
perhaps this very thing may produce a good effect on them. As the truly
virtuous love virtue, so must an English actor love his art,--for its
own sake alone,--and trouble himself little about his reception: in the
end, he is thus most sure to obtain universal applause. And indeed I
must confess that, spite of all this roughness, there is a portion of
English audiences which has at bottom sounder taste and sense than the
feeble, hyper-refined people of our German metropolitan towns; nay, even
among the vulgar crowd there is an invisible church of the initiated,
whose existence never suffers the sacred fire in the breast of the
actors to be wholly extinguished; it is not very busy in public
criticism, but has a mighty effect in society.
Many Germans don't like to be told that other nations excel us in any
thing: and truly I perceive the fact with great regret: but that must
not prevent my speaking out my conviction, that, as we have no dramatic
poet of Shakspeare's calibre, so we possess no actor capable of making
his characters live before our eyes in their full significancy. It was
not always so, as it is asserted; and I myself have retained impressions
received in my earliest youth from Fleck and Unzelmann, which have never
been renewed in Germany. Schröder and Eckhof seem to have stood yet
higher; and I remember with singular pleasure the enthusiastic
descriptions given me of them by old Archenholz, who had also seen
Garrick. He thought Schröder at least Garrick's equal.
That in order to form anything like a correct judgment of foreign
actors, we must first in some degree throw ourselves in thought into
their nationality;[85] must accustom ourselves to many of their manners
and usages, which, like many turns of their language, always affect us
as strange, however well we may understand them,--will be admitted by
every thinking man. At first, these causes always more or less distract
the attention; and I never saw more than one individual who, (if I may
use the expression,) had a perfectly cosmopolitan organization,--the
perhaps never-equalled, certainly never-surpassed, Miss O'Neil. In her
it was only the pure abstract human mind and soul that spoke;--nation,
time and external appearance, vanished from the thoughts in an ecstacy
which carried all before it.
But back to the present.
We saw Othello, then; in which the combined acting of the three greatest
dramatic artists of England afforded me a high intellectual treat, and
has elicited this somewhat long 'expectoration;' but caused me to feel
most painfully the want of the above-mentioned heroine. Had she been
there, I should have witnessed the highest point of all theatrical
representation. Kean, Young, and Kemble, compose the ruling triumvirate
of the English stage. The first has without doubt the most genius; the
second is brilliant and sustained in his acting; the third, though less
distinguished in the highest tragedy, uniformly dignified and
intelligent. This representation of Othello was the first time of their
playing together. It was indeed a rare enjoyment! Othello and Shylock
are Kean's greatest parts. It is amazing with what profound knowledge of
the human heart he not only portrays the passion of jealousy,--first
slumbering, then gradually awaking, and ending in madness; but with what
wondrous accuracy he catches the Southern nature of the Moor,--the
peculiar characteristics of the race, and never for a moment loses sight
of them. In the midst of the high and noble bearing of the hero,
something animal occasionally peeps forth that makes us shudder, while
on the other hand it gives force to his agonizing torment, and places it
bodily before our eyes. The simplicity of his acting at first, the
absence of all bragging about his past achievements, and his intense
love for the woman of his choice, win the hearts of the spectators as
they have won that of Desdemona: the ugly Moor is forgotten in the
complete, heroic man; till, amid the torments of lacerating jealousy,
that hidden fierce nature slowly reveals itself to our eyes; and at
length we think we see before us a raging tiger, rather than a being of
like nature with ourselves. I was here confirmed anew in my persuasion,
that a great poet, still more than a moderate one, stands in need of a
great actor to make him perfectly understood and estimated. In Berlin,
for instance, the strangling scene was not only ludicrous, but really
indecent. Here, the blood froze in one's veins; and even the boisterous
and turbulent English public was for a time speechless, motionless--as
if struck by lightning. Nay, I must acknowledge that sometimes during
the tragedy, Othello's long torment, which the fiend-like Iago with such
devilish calmness doles out to him drop by drop, was so painful, and the
terror of what I knew was to follow grew upon me so involuntarily, that
I turned away my face as from a scene too horrible to contemplate.
Young's Iago is a master-piece, and _his_ acting first made this
character thoroughly clear to me. It is, perhaps--and here I must
recant, at least in this one case, an assertion I made before--Iago is
perhaps, contrary to Shakspeare's usual custom, not a character quite
founded in nature, but rather a brilliant conception of the poet:--but
then with what astonishing consistency is it carried through! He is an
incarnate fiend; a being nourished with gall and bitterness, capable
neither of love nor joy; who regards evil as his element; the
philosophizing on himself, the contemplating and full and clear setting
forth of his own atrocities, is his only enjoyment. The tie which binds
him to human kind is feeble; it is only revenge for the suspected injury
done him by the Moor: and even this seems but a sort of pretext which he
makes to himself with the last expiring breath of moral sensibility, and
his genuine delight in torture and distress ever the real and leading
motive. And yet even this monster is not utterly revolting. His
intellectual superiority, his courage, his consistency, and, at the
last, his firmness in extremity, never suffer the consummate villain to
sink into abject, vulgar degradation. Iago is a hero, compared to
Kotzebue's models of virtue. Completely in this sense Young played the
character: his manners are gloomy and morose, but noble; no smile passes
over his lips, and his jests lose nothing by this dryness: certain of
his power, he treats all with calm superiority, but with well-defined
'nuances:' to his wife he is simply rough and domineering; to Roderigo,
authoritative and humorous; to Cassio, polite and friendly; to the Moor,
reverential and attached, but always serious and dignified. Kemble, on
his part, played Cassio as admirably; and perfectly as Shakspeare
describes him; "a man, framed to make women false;" young, gay, gallant,
of a noble mein, good-natured character, and polished
manners.--Desdemona, unhappily, was but moderately represented; and yet
the touching contrast of her gentle, patient, womanly devotedness, with
the Moor's burning passion, was not utterly lost.
Kean played Othello in the dress of a Moorish King out of the
Bible,--in sandals, and a long silk talar, which is manifestly absurd.
But one soon forgets his dress in his glorious acting.